Incautus
by Menschlich
Summary: [in-kau -tus], adjective (Latin) 1. Unforseen. 2. That which one is unguarded against. Deadpool/Wade Wilson x Reader
1. The Watershed

If there was one thing Wade enjoyed, it was a surprise. Maybe not the typical sort of surprises one generally thought of, like a birthday party, or a spontaneous gift from a loved one, but rather the sort that made people jump outta their skin in fright, or scream in terror. There was something so utterly satisfying in getting the jump on someone and seeing the moment of panic on their faces before they realized what was happening. Yes, Wade was a fan of surprises.

It was with this in mind that Deadpool, overcome with inspiration and in the market for a good distraction thanks to his current job, made the very well thought out decision to plant small amounts of explosives in the watermelon stand on this particular day, at one of the more popular vendors. Also, you know, it was gonna be funny as hell. Can you imagine their faces? Exploding fruit!

With a roguish grin, Deadpool counts down the seconds before the produce goes up. A bit louder than anticipated, a boom does go off and the crowded downtown streets becomes even more chaotic as people start screaming. Variations of "Oh my God!", "It's an attack!", and "Why are the watermelons exploding?!" are heard all around and Deadpool lets out a snicker.

Chuckling openly now, Deadpool ducks to avoid a particularly large and sticky piece of melon as it rained down around him and throws himself into the throng of panicked people, katanas raised and swinging wildly.

Leaping around like an elegant dancer, or perhaps a young child before they wet themselves, Deadpool takes a deep breath. "Are you not entertained?!"

[How good was Gladiator?]

{Russell Crowe, right? Hubba, hubba!}

White and Yellow were enjoying themselves just as much as he was. Feeling vaguely at peace in the pandemonium (and not entirely disappointed with where his mind was taking him thinking about Russell Crowe), Deadpool is careful to not hit any passersby. He was aiming to rile people up, not maim innocents. He just needed the eyes of a certain dead man walking on him for the time being. It was about sending a message. He just… wasn't exactly positive of what sort of message he was going for, yet. Whatever, he'd figure it out. He was good at that.

Throughout the mass of running idiots, one person catches Deadpool's eye. There, a single woman dressed in what he supposes is business casual clutches her stomach as she nearly keels over from laughing so hard. She's especially covered in the sticky fruit having been apparently standing at ground zero in his latest escapades. Pieces of melon are sliding off her face onto her shoes, but she looks anything but upset over this fact as she tries and fails to gain control over herself, slipping in the mess around her.

Deadpool turns his gleeful grin on you under his mask. At least someone appreciated his work.


	2. Pawnder

You had been staring at him for a few minutes, pensive frown on your face. Deadpool was trying to figure out where he knew you from. You were definitely familiar, he just couldn't put his finger on it… Had he ever tried to kill you before? He couldn't be sure. I mean, murdering people was sorta his profession, so he had tried to kill a lot of people. It would come to him. It would.

You, on the other hand, were doing your own pondering, though for entirely different reasons (after all, it was kinda hard to forget someone who was responsible for covering a respectable amount of your person in flying watermelon).

{Oh shit, yeah. That's where we know her from. The watermelon thing.}

' _Oh!'_ Deadpool's face lit up in triumph. ' _That's right!'_

...No, you knew very well who Deadpool was. What was baffling you was his present situation.

"...Did you steal a police dog?" It wasn't a question you had really anticipated on ever asking in your life, and certainly not one you expected on asking a complete stranger (for all intents and purposes; of course you'd _heard_ of him. Who hadn't?). But here we are.

As far as Deadpool was concerned, there was a perfectly valid explanation as to why he was currently on the run with a police dog in his arms, and he was prepared to make his case.

"He was just sitting there, all alone." He implores with a pout. "He _needs_ me!"

You raise an eyebrow challengingly, though your amusement is written clearly across your face. "So you're telling me that you _didn't_ steal the police dog from the Target a block up where they're _just so happening_ to be having a training exercise with the K9 Unit, but that you found him, alone, on the side of the road?"

{Damn, she got it in one. You done screwed up.} Yellow offers.

[I'm pretty sure I said this was a _bad_ idea. You guys never listen to me,] retorts White.

Deadpool, feeling a little ganged up on, offers a half-hearted scowl from beneath his mask and brandishes a finger at you, which looked just slightly ridiculous with his hands full of dog.

"Alright, listen up, hot pants-" Sporting a vaguely disturbed look on your face, you give yourself a brief once-over before deciding that your jeans and t-shirt were just fine, thank you very much, and returning your attention to the man in front of you. "-me and Sprinkles here?" He hefts the confused dog in question slightly as if to indicate that it were _this_ dog he were referring to, and not another. "We're a dynamic duo. We _belong_ together!"

You snort a bit at that. "His name is Wrex."

Deadpool falters momentarily before he gives you a suspicious frown. "How the holy heck do _you_ know?"

You gesture insouciantly to a small tag woven into the rather disgruntled dog's vest that reads _Wrex_.

"Semantics." He argues.

You brows furrow immediately in befuddlement and you let out a weak "what?" But you don't get the opportunity to further your line of questioning. Deadpool hears the pitter patter of the city's finest making their way toward you both, accompanied by shouts and sirens in the distance.

"That's my cue!" He offers you an awkward dog-filled salute before making his way past you briskly. "C'mon, Benji! Time to get this show on the road!"

As Deadpool makes his escape, he finds himself thinking that he wouldn't be terribly opposed to running into you again.


	3. Something

Thanks for reading this story, I've had a lot of fun writing it and sharing it! If you enjoy it, please consider leaving a review! :)

"What's your name?"

Deadpool raises a hidden eyebrow at you. He had been waiting in line to pick up a couple tacos (okay, like ten) from the stand outside of your building when you had come through the large double doors and (surprising the shit out of him) decided to stop to chat for a bit. He figured since you were a decent human being he would walk with you to carry on the conversation, however long it may last.

[Oh please.]

{Yeah, the fact that she's smokin' has _nothin'_ to do with it.}

Deadpool ignores the boxes and focuses on a reply. "You forget already, sweetheart?"

You elbow him gently in his ribs and he let out a startled sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt at being taken by surprise. "No. I mean your real name." You look up at him mischievously. "Or is it one of those ' _I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you'_ things?" You ask, putting on what Deadpool suspects is your best macho voice. It was garbage.

A smirk tugs at his mouth. "That depends on who you ask," he replies smartly.

You peer up at him again, curious, and Deadpool wonders if you know how you look when you send glances up at him from under your eyelashes like that. "How do you mean?"

"Well, if you asked my third grade teacher, Mrs. Irwin, it's 'that brat'. If you ask my _fifth_ grade teacher, Mrs. Kaymore, it's 'you little shit'. Et cetra, et cetra… Some people call me Wade, though. Among other things."

You let out a bark of laughter and he stands a little straighter, pleased. "Well, it's nice to get to know the man behind the mask a little," you offer, scrunching your nose up cutely. "I'm (your name)."

Wade hums softly in response, filing that information away in the back of his mind and the two of you continue on in silence, both attending to your own thoughts. After a moment, you let out a little huff of laughter and Wade tilts his head in interest. You give him an answer to his unasked question.

"You used to terrorize your teachers, I used to try making ghost friends with my brother's Ouija board."

A delighted smile pulls at the corner of Wade's mouth underneath his mask. "Ghosts make excellent friends," he agrees, nodding animatedly.

You gave him a cheeky grin in response, showing off your dimples. "We would have been great friends when we were kids," you say sagely, as though you were imparting some serious wisdom on his ass. "Freaks band together you know".

Wade's grin widens. He sure fucking hopes so.


	4. Incipere

"Where are you going?" It's late.

"I'm walking home." It's dark.

[Bad idea.}

[Probably.]

White and Yellow were actually agreeing on something.

Something about this didn't sit right with him. The idea of you navigating the dark downtown streets eat away at him, make him uneasy. He knew what kind of scum bags could be found on these streets; he was one of them, after all. And you were fucking hopeless-

{Wow.}

[That was rude.]

Okay. You were sweet, gentle.

[Better.]

But let's face it, you had shit luck. After all, you'd managed to capture the interest of at least one mouthy mercenary with questionable morals. Though what that interest was exactly, Wade still hadn't worked out.

{Are you fucking kidding me?}

' _God, shut up, I got this.'_ Wade was irritated. Sometimes the boxes were so fucking huffy.

[Anyway…]

Right. _Anyway_. There was a timidness about you that mostly seemed to emerge around strangers. What if you ran into trouble? Would you be able to handle it? Probably not. Now that he thought about it, that apprehensive side of you had never really been directed toward him. You were never really careful around him in a way that he found himself approving of. On the contrary, your interactions with him always appeared to have a surety about them. Like you were certain of every moment with him. You seemed comfortable in his presence; it wasn't something Wade was particularly familiar with. Definitely something he could get used to, though.

Wade crossed his arms in an effort to appear more imposing. "Hm. Not sure I love the sound of that."

You laugh lightly and Wade decides he likes the sound. "I walk home on my own every day." You shift your satchel up higher onto your shoulder and throw him a teasing grin. "Does that worry you?"

The boxes are silent. It worries him very much.


	5. Run, Rabbit

Okay, let's get one thing straight. Wade wasn't _stalking_ you. He totally wasn't. It's just that work had been slow lately and he couldn't stop playing worst case scenarios through his head over and over after you had told him you walked home alone each night. So, benevolent mercenary that he was, Wade decided that it was up to him to ensure your safety on nights like this.

He had been shadowing you uneventfully for the past eight evenings, however, the Comic Gods don't simply watch a superhero secretly follow their love interest and _not_ orchestrate some sort of dramatic scene wherein the damsel is in great need of a good rescue (and if he's lucky, a thorough fu-)

[Easy there, Casanova.]

Er, right. Anyway, of course you eventually run into trouble, not that you're aware if it just yet. It happens as you pass two men walking in the opposite direction, throwing a polite smile their way as you pass. One of the men nudges the other softly, nodding his head in your direction. They exchange a look with one another and turn around to follow you.

Wades eyes narrow as he watches from his perch up above as the seedy men increase their speed to catch up to you. One of the men slinks over to your left side while the other comes up on your right and puts his arm around your shoulders. Wade's hands tighten into fists at his sides.

' _Hands off, mother fucker.'_

{Hurt them. Hurt them so badly.}

[Agreed.]

He immediately notices how you tense up, how you to try to pull away, but your harasser tightens his hold around you and steers you toward a path right below the patrolling merc that cuts between the two looming buildings. Wade can see the panic plain on your face as you say something to the men, but all you receive in response are leering smirks.

Wade gives up any hope he had that you're gonna surprise him with some super sexy combat skills and decides, rather gleefully, that it's time to intervene, so he vaults the concrete edge of the building he's been gargoyled atop and prepares for a heavy landing.

Three things happen simultaneously. 1) The first man, arm around your shoulder, releases you to retrieve a knife from his pocket, 2) you manage to pull a bottle of pepper spray and mace the armed assailant as he releases you, and 2) Wade lands on top of the other man with a great "thump" and the "snap" of breaking bones.

As the blinded man shouts violently, he takes a few hasty steps back. Wade pulls himself up from his human landing pad (who was looking a little bit unconscious and definitely a little more than bruised) and staggers slightly, reaching for the wall of the nearest building for some support.

"Only broke one leg that time! Alright, not bad!" Wade grins.

You stare at him with wonder and disbelief etched onto your face and Wade hobbles over to you and ruffles your hair like one would a child. You continue to stare up at him, dazed.

"Where did you-"

"Woah!" Wade grabs you by your upper arms and draws you quickly toward him as your assailant blindly takes a swipe at the two of you with his knife, shouting profanities when he misses.

You aim a panicked peek over your shoulder and open your mouth to (Wade assumes) confess your love to your heroic rescuer, but he beats you to it with a gentle finger to your lips.

"Hold that thought, sweetness." He sends you a wink and pulls you behind him before turning his attention to the moron wielding a _knife_ at fucking _Deadpool_.

It takes one swift jab to the throat and the man is down, coughing, tears leaking from his still burning eyes as he claws at the ground. Wade gives him a hard kick in the side of the head for good measure, ignoring the scream of pain it sends through his broken leg, and huffing in satisfaction when it knocks the man out.

He pulls a face at the men on the ground and turns back to you, your arms are wrapped around yourself and you tremble from shock.

You meet his gaze. "How did you know?"

"What can I say," Wade replies cheekily, "my spidey-sense was tingling."

You frown and turn a suspicious glare at him, though it lacked any heat. "Have you been stalking me?"

"I wasn't _stalking_ you." Wade disagrees, almost insulted. "I was just following you around without your explicit permission."

"Wade," you argue, "that's basically the definition of stalking."

Wade simply purses his lips in response.

You sigh and seem to shake yourself from the issue, instead turning your concerned gaze downward to his leg. At this point it had already stopped leaking blood through his suit. You gesture to the break, brows furrowing as you regard his injury. The injury Wade can already feel healing as the fractures in his bones reform and his tendons realign.

"Are you alright?"

Wade puts his hands on his hips and can't help but think that, all things considered, you're taking this all surprisingly well. "I'll be fine. I've got a healing factor thing. It'll be good as new in no time flat."

"No, I know that." You rebuke, surprising Wade with your knowledge. "But it still hurts doesn't it?"

He falters for a moment before letting out a fond hum. "C'mon, I'll walk you the rest of the way."


	6. Don't Say

Wade leans against the brick wall of the alley he was loitering in. What an absolute shit tier day. He had had a rough go of it tracking down his last mark, and when he'd finally found the bastard, the asshole had been loaded up the ying yang with all sorts of spiffy equipment and weaponry that Wade was _totally not_ jealous of.

[Yeah right.]

{We were mega jelly.}

Whatevs. The worst part was that before Wade had _cut his fucking head off,_ the asshat had managed to blow up both them _and_ said fancy schmancy equipment and weaponry just a tad and not only had Wade's mask and half his suit been ruined, but also _his favourite rooty tooty point 'n' shooty._ If Wade hadn't been in the process of murdering the guy he would have, well… murdered the guy. He sighs.

' _At least it can't get any worse'._

{Don't say that! Whenever people say that something bad-}

"Wade?"

He freezes.

{Shit fuck.}

[Not great.]

He raises his head slowly to see your surprised visage and prepares himself for the worst before he meets your eyes. He had expected a little more running and screaming than you were giving him but he'd play along.

{Quick! Pretend to be someone else!}

' _Yes! Great idea! Okay. Be smooth. I'll act like I don't know who the fuck she is. She won't recognize me.'_

He takes a deep breath. "'Sup." And winces at his greeting.

{You absolute fuck up.}

It's the first time you've beared witness to his face without the mask to hide his scars. He watches as you study them. He's wary. Wade gets the feeling he's missing something as your eyes skim his guarded features with a soft smile. Eventually, he works up the courage to ask the question that's plaguing him.

"You aren't afraid?"

You consider the katanas strapped to his back, the guns at his hips. He watches as your eyes trail along his many pouches which contents were full of bits of bobs meant to inflict some serious damage in some way or another. There's no judgement in your gaze, you're simply taking his measure. He's missing something. {Idiot.} The feeling grows stronger.

Finally you respond. "You've never tried to hurt me before."

[Is this chick even real?]

{Aside from really hot?}

Sharp eyes lose their edge and Wade lets out the small breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

That's not what he'd meant.


	7. Ad Victoriam

"Why the outfit?"

The two of you had been spending a lot more time together lately, much to Wade's pleasure, and you had been taking an interest in the why's and how's of his work. Most recently you had been drilling him over the specifics of his suit. He didn't mind your curiosity, but it didn't escape his notice that you largely avoided the topic of his kills. Wade wasn't sure if you did this out of deference for him, or for your own sake.

"Hey, I figure if you're gonna do a job, you may as well dress for it, right?" He replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I guess that makes sense," you concede. He sees the exact moment another thought strikes you. "You don't keep your identity a secret," you state.

Wade tilts his head at you in response. "It would make it harder for people to offer me work." He explains. "Besides, I'm not worried about people finding out who I am."

You cross your arms over your chest and hum thoughtfully. "Alright, but why the mask then?"

Wade hesitates for a moment before he replies. "I don't wear the mask for myself. I wear it for everyone else."

He notes that you make a vaguely unhappy face at his words before giving him a cheeky grin. You always seem to be smiling at him. Not sure he deserves that.

"Fuck everyone else. It doesn't matter what they think."

He snorts. "Shouldn't that include you?" It absolutely does not include you.

"Well…" You pause for a moment, apparently thinking over your words before finishing your train of thought. "Fuck me, too then," you say with meaning.

Wade feels a smirk tug at his mouth before he processes what you've said and he catches your meaning. He freezes.

{Holy shit.}

Dots connect. He finally understands what he's been missing. Both boxes are screaming at him in his head.

[ _Kiss her!_ ]

{This is not a drill!}

He's caught off guard. Your eyes meet, a moment of hesitation. Your eyebrows raise in expectation but there's a softness there, too. Patience, understanding. You're giving him a choice. As if he really had one to begin with when it comes to you.

[Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.]

He holds his breath and steps forward.


	8. And Ever After

This is it, this is the end! Sorry for the delay on these chapters! Some personal stuff came up and had to be dealt with. Thank you so much to the two guests that left lovely comments on this story. They really brought a smile to my face!

* * *

Wade didn't really believe in luck. That is to say, he didn't believe you could manipulate it to work in your favour. Either something happened or it didn't; luck was just a matter of preparation meeting opportunity. And so, Wade never really considered himself a particularly lucky person. But he didn't know how else to explain your presence in his life. He knew he didn't deserve you, that much was a given, but God help whatever force tried to take you out of his life. Still… you could do a lot better than him.

Wade was watching you with a thoughtful gaze, the two of you sitting on the small, cozy couch you housed in the apartment you shared- well, Wade was sitting, you were sprawled across it with your feet in his lap and your nose buried in a book.

Your eyes flick up to meet his with a flicker of impatience. "What is it?"

Wade isn't sure if he's really just not as subtle as he thinks he is or if you're just that aware of him. He hopes it's the second one.

"I was just thinking about where we should order out from tonight. I'm thinking Mexican!" He lies without missing a beat.

You scrutinize him shrewdly for a couple of seconds before you answer. "Okay, first of all, you're always feeling Mexican, and second, what's up?"

Sometimes Wade thinks you must have a sixth sense for picking up on when his thoughts start taking a turn for the sour. He doesn't respond.

"You're amazing." You say it as if it's a fact, eyes returning to your book briefly before humming softly and dog-earring your page. "Sometimes I can't believe I get to come home to you everyday," you continue. You toss the book gently onto the coffee table and Wade thinks about what a fucking wonder you are to somehow always know what he needs to hear.

He grins at you, fluttering his eyelashes flirtatiously. "You know, usually I kill people for making me feel feelings."

You respond with a frankly adorable snort- the kind where your nose crinkles cutely, and you give him a fond eye roll. "That might be vaguely intimidating if I didn't know about the secret Spider-Man scrapbook you keep under the bed."

Wade gasps theatrically, hand upon his chest in mock affront. "You knew?!" But actually. You knew?

"Yeah," you drawl. "It took me a real long time to pick up on your man-crush on the guy, what with your posters of him hanging over our bed." Your eyes are sparkling in absolute mirth as you lean back into the arm of the couch with your arms crossed and a cocky smile on your pretty little lips.

Okay, so maybe Wade really _wasn't_ as subtle as he thought he was. "No need to be jealous, dear." He mutters into his hand as he tries to hide the smile you always seem to bring to his face.

"Hey, I don't blame you." You defend with your hands up in a sign of surrender. "He's pretty _flexible_ , that Spider-Man." You say with a hint of a smirk.

Wade narrows his eyes at you. "Okay, now _I'm_ getting jealous."

You push yourself out of the corner you'd wedged yourself into and drape your arms around Wade's shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck with a sigh that sang of bliss. "Don't worry, you're the only one I'm interested in."

His arms come up around your waist to hold you in place, feeling utterly content. No, Wade didn't particularly believe in luck, but Goddamn, did he believe in this.

"'Course I wouldn't say no to a threesome."

 _Goddamn._


End file.
